


Let's Make Out

by j_gabrielle



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, First Kiss, Leo Fitz Feels, M/M, Public Make Outs, music festivals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Fitz and Jemma go to a music festival, and Fitz ends up meeting a tall, dark, stranger. (It's not as bad as it sounds)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Make Out

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching a documentary on Tomorrowland's 10th year anniversary (TOMORROWLAND!!!!ksfasjkfsdajkf!!!) and it got to the bit where Martin Solveig told the crowd to make out as he begins his song (the title of which is the one I took for this fic). Which was what got me thinking about an AU where Jemma and Fitz goes to Tomorrowland or some EDM festival of the similar nature and this fic is where that line of thinking got me.
> 
> Sorry for the grammatical errors and what not.

_"It'll be fun! You'll see"_

_"We never get to do anything like this, Fitz. It's an opportunity for us to meet new people, experience new things"_

_"You won't regret this, Fitz. I promise"_

Well, Jemma is a big fat liar and Fitz is most definitely regretting the day he met her. 'The things I do for her...' He thinks sullenly to himself, picking his way to the side of the festival goers. He didn't even want to come in the first place; contented was he to be the one waving goodbye to Jemma at the airport, waiting for her return in the two bedroom flat they currently share whilst waiting for better prospects. But Jemma had to just be _that_ persuasive in getting him to come with her to Belgium.

The crowd around him starts to jump, screaming as the next DJ steps onto the stage. Honestly, Fitz could not quite let go like the people around him had. He just couldn't let himself flow into the music. He'd lost Jemma over an hour ago, the worry dissipating soon afterwards, being overtaken by the waves of discomfort and displacement in the sea of people lost in the music. He gets that he should be enjoying himself, but somehow all he wants to do is to hide in a quiet room somewhere, enclosed into himself and his thoughts. Fitz yearns for the familiarity of his books, his bed and the walls of his room.

A thick rise of nausea begins to swell, threatening to swallow him whole, when he is jostled by a swarthy mountain of a man. Fitz stumbles, bracing himself for a fall, when the man wraps his arm around him, hugging him close as a group of revellers 

"Oh, sorry man. Didn't see you." The man laughs, a thick, dark and rumbling sound that reverberates through their bodies pressed together. 'American.' Fitz's mind (un)helpfully supplies. He tries to reply, but it is lost as a girl bumps into them in her dancing, which is when Fitz  finds himself with his nose pressed to the centre of the man's chest; the scent of his sweat and musk, the lingering traces of rain and cologne, triggering some long forgotten response in his mind. "You okay?" The man asks, leaning down to speak into Fitz's ear. Nodding, he turns his head, suddenly finding himself with his lips hair breadths away from the man's, and Fitz jerks his face away.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for the save. It was... brilliant." He says croakily, as loud as his voice is able. Gently, he tries to pry himself away from the man's hold.

From the stage, the DJ begins to speak, telling about how he wants everyone to just make out; to spread the love as he starts on his music.

Looking back up to the man, he tries for a smile as everyone in the crowd around them begins to lock lips willingly, happily. "Name's Mack, and we don't have to do anything if you don't want to." He says, leaning close, placing a warm hand on his hip. Fitz holds his breath. They press their foreheads close, and Fitz feels a bubbling euphoria blossom in him with every beat of the song. In the strobe lights, as soft drizzle begins to curtain around them, Fitz tilts his head,taking a chance and brushing his lips against Mack's.

He is acutely aware of the stillness, the sudden hush that settles around them. The air in his lungs leave him in a rush when Mack chases his lips, kissing back just when Fitz was beginning to formulate an apology on the the tip of his tongue.

"I'm so sorry." Mack rumbles in between licks and nips, hands still a pressing weight on the small of Fitz's back. "I-I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you this morning dancing with your friend and Lance."

"Lance?" Fitz parrots, lips tingling from their kiss. 

"The annoying British guy that won't shut up about his ex."

"Ah, that one." Fitz smiles. Leaning away, he is surprised when Mack lets him go, leaving only the slightest lingering hold on his wrist. Fitz looks down, taking in the way Mack has engulfed his kandis and wrist with just one hand. "Would you...?" He starts.

"Yes, I'd like that very much." Mack grins, the sweat and rain glistening on his chest as he moves. Pressing their hands together in a series of motions that Fitz has been doing before exchanging kandis, he smiles as he slides one he made himself onto Mack's wrist, feeling a soft chuckle when it is done for him.

Mack doesn't let go of his hand even as the music begins to rise into a crescendo, the bodies around them moving to the beat. Fitz has a brief moment of clarity that he sees himself holding this man's hand for the foreseeable future.

"I'm famished." Mack declares suddenly, cheek pressed against his. "Wanna join me for a bite at the food tent?"

Fitz turns their hands for a better grasp. Shrugging, he smiles, drunk on music, atmosphere and the ghost of a kiss. "Sure. I'd love to."


End file.
